


Away With The Boys In The Band

by oh_ms_omegalomaniac



Category: Black Veil Brides, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: BL/ind - Freeform, F.E.A.R, F/F, F/M, M/M, Youngblood Chronicles, killjoys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_ms_omegalomaniac/pseuds/oh_ms_omegalomaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We've been running for so long. We have to run. Run and keep running, because they'll never give up. None of them."<br/>The end of the world has came and gone. BL/ind and F.E.A.R rule a dystopian land where few can resist the White Noise and pills. Draculoids, Courtney Love's army, an assassin for hire named Miss Jackson and so many more patrol the desert world.<br/>But some have escaped the cities of plastic peace and perfect obedience. They call themselves the killjoys, and they are everything the new world has left behind. The fire. The rebellion.<br/>The music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is only based on existing real people- it is a work of fiction and is about characters who resemble real people. Please don't harass any real people or friends/relatives of real people about shipping.

"We've been running for so long. We have to run. Run and keep running, because they'll never give up. None of them." 

The red-haired man is sitting on the floor of the messy can, a radio in his hands. 

"Because they're all here, chasing us. Korse and his Draculoids, Courtney Love and her fanatic army, Miss Jackson, William Control and the rest." 

His hand rests on a brightly colored gun. It's become habit now, to keep their guns close and their boots tight.

"The end of the world has came and gone. F.E.A.R and BL/ind rule the cities, the countries, the continents. In their cities we were slaves, prisoners, made examples of. Until we escaped, that is. We represent everything the New World has left behind. The rebellion. The fire. The music." 

He pushes back his hair and fiddles with the radio nervously. Worriedly.

"Andy's our leader, of course. I'm his second in command. We were the ones that started this all, really. We started running first- we got away from  
Control and helped the others escape." 

Another sigh escapes the man's mouth. 

"We call ourselves the Killjoys, but we don't have time for names. We just run." 

His cheeks are stained with tear tracks and there are worry lines decorating his brow. Too many worry lines for a young man.

"We've lost people- a lot of people. And there are hundreds of our brothers and sisters in music trapped back in the city. Someday we'll get them out." 

His voice begins to choke up a little.

"It's dangerous running, we have to warn you. There are casualties." 

The words are becoming harder to get out and he takes a moment to compose himself.

"When we escaped the city, we took our families. Young children, some of them. It was... too dangerous for them on the road. After my Bandit was almost lost, we decided her and the other kids had to be safe. Hidden. So we made a bargain with Miss Jackson, a not-so-loyal supporter of our enemies. She's supposed to be an assassin but... I think she's saved more people than she's killed. Anyway. In exchange for a few of us to take back to Love and the others, she'd hide our more vulnerable members and keep them safe. So Ray, Spencer, Elisa and a few other girls are staying hidden with the children. Ray lost his sight after a show of defiance back in the city displeased his captors, Elisa was nursing a new-born... they couldn't run. We weren't risking them. They and the others will be safe." 

The man manages a smile before sadness takes over his delicate features.

"Patrick, Dallon and Ashley volunteered for the deal. We don't even know if they're still alive. We just pray." 

He looks away now, memories clouding his eyes.

"Bert McCracken used to be one of us before they caught and brainwashed him or possessed him or-" 

The man realizes how fast his heart has become to race and closes his eyes, calming himself. 

"...or something. All we know is that he hates us, more than all of F.E.A.R and BL/ind combined. Especially me. We're... not sure why. But he wants to hurt me in every way possible." 

His hands have become fists. He's determined to protect those he cares about from all those who wish harm, even his former friend.

"My name is Gerard Way. If you're listening to this.. please. Stop listening to the white noise of BL/ind. Stop taking F.E.A.R's pills. Resist and stand with the rebels!"

Gerard carefully clicks the radio off, finishing the recording for now. It was his idea to get a message out to citizens, so he's the one to begin their story.

A dark-haired woman pokes her head into the back of the fan, her sudden appearance startling him. "Hey, Gerard. We're going to start moving again. You all done?" Gerard nods soundlessly, packing up the radio and rising slowly. "All done." She glances at him, concerned. "She's safe, Gee. They're all safe. Trick and the others did what they had to do." The man nods again. "I know. Let's go."

She takes his hand and the two leave the van, blinking in the harsh light of the desert sun. "Hayley says we'll be out of the zones, out of the desert, soon." He finds a smile somewhere. "That's good."

Lindsey keeps his hand in hers and they walk towards the others, conversation slowing to a stop as they notice them. "Hey, Gerard, Lins. We're going to get moving again." Andy is in the centre of the group, commanding authority despite him being one of the youngest gathered. He flicks his dark hair from his face. "Who's going with who?" Hayley shyly poses the question, her formerly-orange head now faded to a dull blonde. 

"Pete, Megan, Mikey and I will take the rear. Hayley, Ariel, if you two could navigate up front, that'd be great. The rest of you can split however you like." 

They're always quiet when they run. He supposes it's not running, technically. More frantic, nervous, desperate driving. 

Whatever it is, it's their life now.

Maybe soon they'll stop running and fight. Maybe soon they'll start trying to beat F.E.A.R, start trying to stop BL/ind.

But not yet.

For now they just run.


	2. Chapter 2

Scared. It's dark; he can't see the faces of his friends anymore. He's scared. There's something covering his eyes.

Where is he? He can't remember anything after the sharp pain in his neck. He thinks it was a tranquilizer, but he's not sure. Elisa would know. She knows everything, they used to joke.

He misses her already.

His thoughts are ripped away from his wife, despite his desperate attempts at focusing on her face. The darkness feels like it's closing in on him and the cold fear has brought sweat to his brow.

Trying to move is useless. They've tied him down or drugged him or something, and he can't budge an inch. He's wishes it wasn't true, but he knows one thing about his situation- escape isn't going to happen.

He's tried to scream and yell for help but his voice doesn't seem to work. That scares him. His voice is the best thing he possesses, he thinks. He remembers in the old days, how people would yell his name and the name of his band, ecstatic to hear his voice singing them to sleep.

Not anymore. Music is banned, except for the white noise of BL/ind.

"Oh, you're awake!" Patrick Stumps starts, not realizing the presence of the owner of the smug voice behind him. Whatever is impairing his vision is taken away and the light blinds him for a moment before he lets out a tiny cry of pain, just loud enough for his captor to hear. 

"Oh, is the little rebel hurting from the sun? It's not going to kill you, idiot. They'll hurt you much worse when we get to the city." Patrick recognizes the voice. Miss Jackson, supposedly an assassin. His mouth moves but no sounds comes out. "Oh, yeah. Tranqs knocked your voice off for a little bit. It'll be back to normal soon enough." That relief gives him a small moment of pleasure. But he's quickly snapped out of it.

"Your friends are still sleeping. Not sure how that works. You're a midget, more drug less body to take it in, and you're still awake first. Go figure." With great effort, with all of his thoughts desperately trained on breaking out of this stupid paralysis, Patrick manages to turn his head slightly. Enough to see Dallon and Ashley both sprawled next to him in the back of the ute. They're in some sort of cage, he notices. "You'll be publicly displayed once we arrive. They want to show how weak the killjoys, you so-called wild ones really are." 

Miss Jackson shrugs, her blonde hair flying behind her in the movement of the vehicle. "But you're not really weak, are you? That bargain took some guts." Patrick locks gaze with her, his brown eyes pleading. "The kids will be fine, moron. I'm hiding them well." She crouches down next to him, eyes a little pitying. "I'm almost sorry to have to hand you over. Hate that I'm feeling bad about this." Shrugging again, she gets up slowly. "I've got the antidote to the paralysis here, but I'll have to tie you three up first. Many apologies." 

Her chatter continues as the assassin binds his wrists tightly behind him, but Patrick has stopped listening. He's not too proud to admit to himself that he's scared. What are the going to do with him? Kill him, like they killed so many that resisted? Or brainwash him? Miss Jackson has given him the antidote in time for him to shiver at the thought of being turned against his friends. "You can try to talk again, now. Just please don't scream or yell or whatever." Feeling movement slowly flooding through him, Patrick nods. "Ashley? Dallon?" 

His friends are slowly waking up and he wants to reassure them, calm them, but he can't find a word that he believes. "Good, all awake." Patrick scoots himself across a little to lean against Ash, offering him as much comfort as he can with his hands tied behind his back. "Where the hell are we, Trick?" Ashley is awake and alert and obviously struggling not to freak out. Patrick is surprised at this. Ash is usually one of the strongest, the least likely to panic. 

Dallon and Patrick volunteered for this because they both knew they weren't exactly rebel standard. They know their absence won't hinder the group. Ashley, however, is one of their best. "No idea, Purdy. Is Dallon okay?" The tall bassist is slowly struggling to sit up. He pauses to give Patrick a nod. "Yeah, I'm cool. Hey, MJ!" The assassin is peering out of the truck and seems annoyed to be disturbed. "Yeah, stupid rebel scum?" 

"Where are we going?" Miss Jackson rolls her eyes. "Blondie, bring your dumbass friends up to speed." She turns away again.

"She's taking us to Battery City. A Draculoid is driving. She says that the kids are hidden well." Ashley and Dallon trade relieved smiles, thankful that this wasn't in vain. "Good. So, MJ, what are they going to do to us in the city?" 

"For fucks sake kid, stop calling me that." Patrick stifles a laugh, his fear slowly fading in the light of Dallon being his usual annoying self. "Nah, it has a nice ring to it." She rolls her eyes and draws a ray gun, motioning to him threateningly. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind only two of the rebels being brought back alive." 

"I know Ashley's a pain in the ass, but why would you shoot him? That's just mean." Ashley lets out a comical whine, his pride hurt. "JK! We know you'd rather kill the midget." Miss Jackson is struggling not to laugh now, Patrick sees. 

"Just because you're freakishly tall doesn't mean I'm a midget. Holy smokes Dallon, you can be so rude." The dark haired man sticks out his tongue at Patrick and they continue the banter, poking fun at each other and Ashley. As they chatter, the tall blonde stares down at them, shaking her head with a bemused look on her face. "You three know that you're in the back of a truck going a city that hates you? You know that you'll be executed, tortured or brainwashed?" 

The laughter stops for a few moments and Dallon catches the woman's eye. "Yeah. So?" Miss Jackson gestures wildly, exasperated. "Aren't you at least scared?" Ashley speaks up. "'I'm absolutely terrified to be honest." Dallon and Patrick agree quietly with nods of their heads, their former smiles gone. "But the kids are safe and our friends are still out there fighting. I'd rather laugh now and save the screaming for later." 

"Bro, if my hands weren't tied, I'd applaud you. Nice speech." Ashley rolls his eyes but grins at Dallon. The assassin stares down at the three of them, bemused but slightly... impressed? Patrick isn't sure, but he can see grudging respect behind her glare. "Anyway, whatever. We'll be arriving in the city soon." "Coolio, MJ!"


	3. Chapter 3

He's losing himself in the music of his headphones when he feels a tap on his shoulder. With a silent sigh, he drags the 'phones away from his ears. 

"Ray?"

Although he can't see her, he still turns his head towards her voice. It's a natural reaction.

"Yeah, Marie?" 

He's trying to picture her face, but it's faded. They only met a few times before the wars. Brown hair? Brown curly hair, like her husband's? 

Ray likes the idea of Joe and her having the same hair. A cute matching couple.

He can remember Joe's face, at least. 

"Do you think they're okay?" 

He wants to nod, wants to smile at her, but he can't. "I don't know, Marie, I don't know. I'm sorry." Her stifled sigh reaches his ears and the guitarist feels a little bad. "It's okay." Ray feels her weight on the couch next to him. "Why did we agree to this?" 

"Because I'm a burden, the kids weren't safe, Elisa has the baby to look after, Spencer isn't strong enough to run yet, and your best with the kids." Marie's laugh rings out quietly and somehow Ray finds a smile. "When you put it like that..." Shrugging, Ray laughs himself. "Yeah." She doesn't disagree with him, on any of his points. He knows that maybe it should feel bad, knowing that he was a burden in not only in his eyes, but he doesn't care. 

"I'm gonna go check on Bandit, Bronx and the twins, kay? I'm scared they're going to kill each other." The two laugh and Marie leaves, her footsteps echoing before leaving Ray in silence. He shakes his head, smiling a little, imagining what the four oldest kids were up to. Frank's girls, Cherry and Lilly, were almost constants in his life before the wars, and he knows them well. They'd be at each other's throats one moment and smiling again the other. 

Lost in his thoughts, Ray doesn't notice the knocking at the door until the knocker has begun to announce her presence a little more loudly. 

"Rebel scum! Let me in, idiots!" 

Ah. Miss Jackson. Technically sort-of-ish on their side. 

In the vaguest sense.

He stands, hand finding the wall of the hallway that will lead him to the front door. When they first arrived at the safehouse, Bronx was given the 'very serious' job of showing Ray around. The seven year old had taken this responsibility very seriously and Ray had to admit he had done a good job. Ray would always need the walls to navigate, or his cane- god, he hated that cane- but at least he sort-of had his bearings. 

He opened the door and the assassin barged past him, almost knocking him over. "I brought supplies, hope you're all well!" Her voice is loud and Ray shushes her. "Oh hello, Fro-man. How are you doing?" He hears her dump something onto what must be the kitchen table and he follows her. "I'm okay." His fingers skim the bags and he starts to unpack. "That's good!" 

At least she's in a friendly mood. Ray thinks Miss Jackson must have something like Bipolar disorder or whatever, because her moods change every time he sees her.

Every time he meets her, that is. He can't stop talking like a seeing person, can he.

"I just escorted your friends to the city. They're weird, yknow." Ray allows himself a small chuckle. "Yeah, tell me about it." 

"They were laughing. And joking around. They're dumb as rocks, but brave, yknow. The goth one gave this adorable little encouragement speech." He supposes she's talking about Ashley. Patrick, what with his fedora obsession and fluffy blonde hair, could never be described as goth. And Dallon is too happy. 

"What's going to happen to them?" Ray needs to know what his safety has cost his friends. Now, he can sleep at night without worrying about being abused by Courtney in one of her fits of rage. He can sleep without worrying about being an anchor that dragged his friends down. Miss Jackson breathes a small sigh and Ray is sure he's imagined it. She doesn't care about his friends, or him, or the kids. Why would she?

"Can we talk outside?" Ray's hair bounces as he nods. "You're gonna have to help me." He feels a calloused hand on his arm without the usual sigh of annoyance and he's surprised. Jackson leads him outside and shuts the door behind them. "They're going to make an example of them. They'll possess one, probably Patrick, because he's the most well known, and send him after your running friends." Ray closes his eyes (not that it's going to do anything) and focuses on breathing in. "They were debating completely brainwashing him like they did Bert, but Love wants the killjoys captured soon, so it's just possessing by White Noise." 

"Okay. Possessing is different from brainwashing how?"

"Possessing can be undone, so a little glimmer of hope there." Ray tried to smile. 

It didn't work.

He's gripping the wall, now, trying not to fall over. The bruises left by Love's anger are fading, but it still pains him to remain standing for long. Another reason he was a burden.

"And the others?" Courtney sighs again. 

"Why do you keep sighing?" Ray knows it's an awkward question, but he can't see her stupid face with his stupid blind eyes. The assassin carries on like she hasn't heard him. "I'm not so sure about Weekes and Purdy. Hopefully they'll keep them alive." 

He can't mask his disgust anymore and he's sure it shows on his face. "Oh, hopefully? Stop pretending you care." He's a little ashamed by his outburst. What would Mikey say if he could see him now? He'd be upset, Ray thinks, that the one optimist in the band had stopped being the literal ray of sunshine. "Toro, I made a mistake with this stupid bargain." 

Ray rolls his eyes. "Uh huh?"

"I've been promoted in F.E.A.R ranks. I can get close to Ash and Dallon, I can help them escape." 

Ray's eyebrows knit together in confusion and sits down in the desert sand, wishing his stupid ribs would heal already. "Sudden change of heart? Shame it didn't come a week ago." A small cloud of sand is created when the assassin sits next to him. "I know, I know. I guess this is probably time for a sorry." Ray shrugs. "Don't feel too bad. You're hiding us at least." He can feel her smile and slowly drags himself up the wall. "Can I tell the others you've randomly decided to switch sides?"

"Sure. I gotta get going. Got some annoying asses to save." 

"Hmm? Annoying? You couldn't possibly be talking about Dallon that way!" Miss Jackson laughs loudly and Ray joins in as she takes his arm. "How did you guess?" 

He waves goodbye to her and he imagines that she's waving back. Sighing to himself, Ray follows the wall into the kids room, listening to Marie's laughter and the protesting voices of the kids. He can only imagine what's going on. "Hey, Elisa? I just talked to Miss Jackson."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Um, she's kind of switched sides."


	4. Chapter 4

It's beautiful, Tyler thinks. Beautiful. The sort of beautiful he used to write songs about. He supposes he's seen more, and better, but after near two years in Battery City, this scraggly forest amazes him. 

They're walking, the vehicles dead. The van was great while it lasted, he thinks, but then the gas ran out and they're not exactly in any position to get more. "Aren't you glad we're finally out of the desert?" Josh Dun is bouncing alongside his bandmate, grinning. "Oh, yeah. No more sand! We might actually be able to find a decent source of water here." Tyler closes his eyes for a moment, fantasizing a stream or pond. 

"Mm. A decent source of food would be great, too!" The pair laugh at Joe Trohman's comment and the curly haired man grins. "That's so you Joe, always thinking of your stomach. Rehydrated not good enough?" Tyler pokes his friend in the gut and Joe screws up his face comically. "Definitely not! I'm so hungry for real food, I could eat Andy." The three laugh and stare at the drummer walking in front of them. "I don't think he'd be that tasty, though. All muscle."

"Yeah. How he's managed to remain that fit after all this is ridiculous.." Josh's joke falls flat and they each subtly, quietly examine themselves, taking in various cuts, bruises, and in Joe's case, broken bones. "I wonder how Trick and the others are doing.." Tyler sighs at Joe's words and together they hang their heads, each feeling guilty. How did they have any right to laugh and joke when their friends were possibly dead?

"I miss them." 

Josh's words hang in the air and the three walk in silence until the radio Tyler is carrying sputters to life. "Rebel scum, you still alive?" It's the voice of Miss Jackson and Josh alerts the rest of the group so they can crowd round and listen to her words. Tyler hands the mike to Sarah, the 'designated communicator' (aka, the only person that could speak to Jackson without losing their temper). 

"Yes, we're alive." "Oh, pity," snarks the assassin and she gives an exaggerated, sarcastic sigh. "I guess you want an update?" Sarah rolls her eyes. "Yes." 

"Well. The brats, fro-man and the others hiding are fine, I've been getting them supplies." Tyler joins in on the collective sigh of relief. "And what about Patrick, Dallon and Ashley?" The voice on the other end of the conversation is silent and all that can be heard is the crackles of static. 

"Well, the annoying one is kicking. He's doing okay." Brendon gives an optimistic smile. "They've been interrogating Ashley," Andy's face is grim, "but he hasn't told them anything and I think they're going to start on Dallon instead."

"And.. Patrick?" Sarah's voice is hesitant, almost like she doesn't want to know the fate of her friend. The friend that had introduced her and Brendon, who had came and cheered at the wedding, who helped her escape the haze of drugs and white noise.

"He's been possessed. They're sending him to you." Shock erupts from the group. 

"Possessed? What?" Pete yells and Miss Jackson sighs. "Yeah, possessed. Conditioned is another word for it."

"Well, how do we reverse it?!" Joe, usually one of the jokers, is furious now at the thought of Patrick being turned against them. "I dunno, but you really have to run. He's with Korse and  
McCracken." All eyes turned to Gerard now, worry over Patrick momentarily gone.

"Ah." 

"Yeah, I thought you'd react like this. Start moving as quick as you can."

Transmission stops. 

"Andy? Gerard?" The group turn to the leaders and the men shrug in unison. "You heard her. We run, faster than ever." No one has to be told twice. Thoughts run through their heads as they run. 

Pete worries about Patrick. His concern for his blonde friend is paramount and for a few seconds, he considers the insane idea of stopping running and trying to fix Patrick. It'd get them all killed, Pete knows. So he sighs to himself and forces a smile out for Megan, knowing how worried she is and hoping to reassure her. The dark haired woman smiles back and their hands meet and hold. 

Andy and Gerard have near identical thoughts centering on the same person: Bert McCracken. Their former friend and current enemy who would do anything, anything to hurt them. Both desperately search for excuses for his enmity- brainwashed? Possessed? The cold eyed monster that attempted to kill Lindsey and Bandit has nothing in common with their whirlwind memories of the man. 

Tyler, Josh and Joe whisper to each other as they run, giving reassurances. Their minds are all racing fast, so fast, wired with fear for their friends and themselves. "We'll be fine," Tyler whispers to Josh, attempting a smile. "I know. It's the others I'm scared for." Joe nods in  
agreeance. 

Jamia and Frank run together, hands clasped. Frank is murmuring reassurances and Jamia is humoring him, knowing he's so much more scared than she is. She's always been called the calm one, the reasonable one, so she's living up to it and trying to keep a level head. They will be okay, she promises herself. 

Mikey's mind is numb; a subconscious part of the bassist is stopping the terrified thoughts that will unbalance him from rushing through his brain. His eyes are on Andy's back, the leather jacket and ragged black hair doing something to calm him. 

Brendon is worrying as he runs with Sarah and she hates the furrows in his brow. He's the happiest person she knows, her husband is. Sarah doesn't like seeing him upset. "Bren, everything will be alright in the end." His eyes find hers. "Really, Sarah Smiles?" Sarah gives him her trademark grin. "Yes. I promise." 

Andy Hurley drums his fingers against each other as he runs, his thoughts on Korse. Gerard and the other Andy (as he's taken to calling Biersack in his head) are terrified of Bert but Andy heard so many stories of the killologist when he was imprisoned. The rumors and the truth are often far apart but in Korse's case, the tattooed drummer reckons they're thick as thieves. He's never actually met the killer- how deadly could one man be? Probably very. 

Hayley and Ariel sing quietly to each other, however stupid wasting their breath is. Both being the only girls in the group without boyfs, they've grown close running. With such a fame gap- Hayley used to frontwoman the hugely popular Paramore and Ariel led the relatively unknown Icon For Hire- they didn't meet before the wars. Now exchanging lyrics, memories and melodies are some of the only things that keep the two sane. "Run as fast as you can and we'll make it out alive- you we don't have to live like this, go tell 'em all we don't have to live live this!" 

No one is paying attention as the radio Tyler carries crackles to life. "Hello?" Miss Jackson's voice whispers quietly, too quiet for the usually outgoing and cynical assassin. "I'm going to get Dallon and Ashley out."


	5. Chapter 5

Cold eyes. Eyes that used to be blue and sparkling, but now are greyer than the cloud filled sky outside. Eyes that used to dance at the mention of the name Gerard Way, memories flicking behind them- now they just fill with hatred. 

"Is he almost done?" Bert McCracken leans against the door frame of the small room, very much the casual observer of the horrific scene in front of him. Yells have filled the air as the blonde man tied down near him is subjected to a blurring montage of images and sounds. 

"Soon." Courtney Love has her back to the solider, eyes on Stump. "Korse is ready." She turns to face Bert now, one eyebrow arched. "Really? He's been distracted lately. I am... concerned."

"I'll tell Control to put some people on it." Love nods in satisfaction. "Good. And where is the assassin? It's thanks to her we have the prisoners, anyway, she might help us to find the others." "You'd better put a good price on it. It cost F.E.A.R. a high position in our ranks and a.. larger sum of money than I'd like to admit."

Scoffing, Courtney flashes Bert a smile. "We have everything she could want. Oh, look, he's done. It'll just take a little Noise to turn him when you want. But, remember," the woman gives a nasty grin, "he'll attack anyone in sight, even you." 

She hands him the radio and strolls over to the strapped down Patrick. "Wha..wha.." His eyes are unfocused. "What have you done to me?" Patrick is struggling now, fear and rage mingling together. 

"Let me go!" Bert rolls his eyes and walks over to Courtney, in his hands cuffs and a gun. "Killjoy, we're going for a little drive. Either you can come quietly, or I'll shoot you in a non-essential area. I'm sure you can still kill without a hand." Patrick seems to freeze in fear and nods slowly. 

"Fine." 

"Stop!" The screams of the person in the cell echo and for a moment the dark figure elicting them pauses. "So, you've decided to tell us where your little rebel friends are?" Dallon sighs heavily, his eyes fixed on the shaking form of Ashley. "Just stop hurting him and I'll tell you." 

Laughing, the man slowly strolls over to Dallon, smiling cruelly. "Where are they?" It's not so much a question as a command, a malicious threat. "At the edge of zone six, possibly into the forests by now. There, I've said it, let him go!" 

William Control nods and storms into the cell, unlocking the chains from Ashley's ankles. "Here." Shoving him at Dallon, Control leaves the chambers, slamming the heavy black doors behind him. "Ash!"

Dallon's cry of alarm seems to startle the dark-haired man and he shrinks away from the sound. "Dallon?" 

"You're okay Ashley, I'm so sorry. I had to give in." The former rocker gives a faint smile and drags himself towards Dallon, who rushes to help him stand. "It's okay. I would have broken sooner or later. What are we going to do now?" Dallon shrugs helplessly. "I don't know." 

"So, Miss Jackson? You'll help us?" Courtney Love is staring at the assassin expectantly, fingernails tapping against the hard wood of her desk. "I want payment." Love rolls her eyes impatiently. "Yes, whatever."

"The prisoners I brought in? They've given you the information- they're useless now. I want them." Cold laughter fills the air and Love raises a cynical eyebrow. "And why do you want them?" Miss Jackson rolls her eyes. "None of your business. Do we have a deal?" The leader pretends to mull it over, eyes sparkling with cruel delight. "Of course." She extends a slim hand and the two shake. 

It is only when Love exits the room, leaving a single key, is the assassin able to give a sigh of relief. She walks away, whistling under her breath. When she arrives at the cellroom door and opens it, the taller of the two men inside pushes the other behind him, hands raised protectively. "You said you'd leave us a- oh. MJ!" Raising a finger to her lips, the assassin takes out a deadly looking knife. "Hey, rebel scum. You're my payment. C'mon." 

Dallon stares at her in shock, disgust and a touch of fear registering on his face. "You're going to-" With a roll of her eyes, Miss Jackson cuts him off and mouths four words that make the two smile. 'Put on a show'.


End file.
